Chapter 563: Baelon Marriage

It was common knowledge in the Seven Kingdoms that the Dragonlord had twin sons who looked exactly alike. As the heir to the Iron Throne, the eldest son, Baelon, was a carbon copy of his father in every way. He was praised and favored by the nobles and advisers. Maris, however, had a discerning eye and immediately took a liking to the younger brother, recognizing his unlimited potential.

"Who are you talking about?" Rhaegar was shocked and sat up straight on the Iron Throne. Apart from his brothers, his sons were the only ones in the royal family.

Maris, enthusiastic and with sparkling eyes, looked at Baelon and said bluntly, "Your Grace, you have two other young princes."

Rhaegar's eyelids twitched, and a cold sweat broke out on his forehead. He looked in the direction of her gaze and saw his eldest son, who appeared confused. Baelon walked ahead, clearing a path for his mother and brother, his purple eyes surveying the advisers. He was completely unaware that he had been targeted by the cunning woman.

"Lady Maris, the royal family is grateful for your love, but the two young princes are much younger than you," said Hand of the King Lyonel, stepping forward with sharp words to reject her.

Rhaegar blinked and barely recovered from the shock. He looked at the plain Maris repeatedly, thinking, 'How dare you? Baelon is only six years old and the natural heir to the Iron Throne. How dare you try to marry him as an old woman?'

Rhaenyra, who had just arrived, was also surprised. Her almond-shaped eyes widened, never imagining that a woman would be so bold as to ask for the hand of a young prince in public. Even when Rhaegar was a sweet and lovable boy, he didn't get seduced by Jeyne until he was 13.

"Ahem," Rhaenyra coughed twice to remind them, quickening the pace of the two pairs of twins.

Maris stared at her, immediately forming a rebuttal in her mind: 'Lyonel, you're wrong.'

"The two princes are still underage, and it's not suitable for them to get married," Lyonel continued, standing loyally in front of the king.

Rhaegar looked at him with admiration but worried that he might not be able to refuse Maris too bluntly.

At that moment, Lyonel's bloated figure seemed like a heavy shield. Maris smiled and said, "I'm not in a hurry. I can wait until the Prince grows up." Then, with a glance at Rhaenyra and Jeyne, she boldly continued, "Your Grace and the Queen are eight years apart in age, and there is an even greater age difference between you and Lady Jeyne."

Jeyne's face darkened, and she glared at Maris. 'You're just bringing up the wrong things, aren't you?' Maris pretended not to notice and said with righteous indignation, "I am the same age as Prince Aemond, and I'm not yet old and faded."

In the Four Storms, the late Cassandra was 19 years old, and her three younger sisters were all younger than her. Maris, the second oldest, was under 16 years old, making her 10 years younger than Baelon. Her words were straightforward, and her goal was clear.

Rhaegar's brow furrowed into a knot. He didn't need Lyonel to refute her words; he said bluntly, "Lady Maris, marriage is based on mutual affection. Please pay more attention to the Knights of the Seven Kingdoms, not the heirs of the Iron Throne." 'She really wants to marry an old woman. Impossible, absolutely impossible.'

"Your Grace..." Maris's brain seemed seized by a cramp, and she still wanted to continue her argument.

"Lady Maris, you seem drunk." Before she could finish her sentence, Rhaenyra waved her hand to interrupt and called for the guards. "Take Lady Maris back to rest. If she speaks any longer, the people of King's Landing will have another topic of conversation."

"Yes, Your Grace." The two guards, expressionless, escorted Maris away on either side. Maris looked aggrieved, the tender grass on her lips having flown. As she opened her mouth to protest, she met the combined gaze of Rhaenyra and Jeyne. For a woman, age is a serious disadvantage. Maris had been indiscreet, naming names in front of the royal advisers.

"Pfft!" Margaery, who had been silent until now, couldn't help but laugh. She slumped her shoulders slightly, trying to maintain her dignified and elegant bearing. Maris was smarter than her sister Cassandra, but her intelligence was still limited.

She was used to being clever and couldn't control herself—a typical example of a failure in the education of the second daughter.

Rhaegar watched as Maris was dragged away, feeling a great sense of satisfaction. 'If she couldn't get his father, she would get his son. This woman must be stopped!'

"Baelon, come to me," Rhaegar said with a serious expression.

"Coming, Father." Baelon let out a sigh of relief and quickly climbed onto the Iron Throne. Rhaegar didn't say much but kept his eldest son by his side and listened to his advice, thereby raising his son's status. Baelon was smart enough to stand by his father's side. The two of them were in complete agreement. Heirs should act like heirs. The advisers looked at each other, and it was hard to miss the king's meaning. Even the most calculating opportunist knew that Baelon's position was unshakeable. After a short silence, the atmosphere returned to its lively state.

Before the other Lords could speak, Jeyne suddenly said, "Your Grace, King Viserys promised to restore Dany's family name. I would like to discuss this in detail."

Wow! The entire audience was shocked and fell silent. Lyonel was stunned, his eyes darting between Rhaenyra and Jeyne, unsure whether to intervene. The issue of the right to a family name had caused a great deal of commotion. The Crownlands and the nobles of the Vale knew there was bad blood in the king's court. There was a hint of a repeat of the old days of the Blacks and Greens.

Facing the subtle stares of the advisers, Rhaegar smiled and said, "Daenerys is my eldest daughter. The right to the family name is yours to decide." After that, he glanced at Rhaenyra, who was sitting next to him. Rhaenyra looked up at him, rolled her eyes, and nodded in tacit agreement. This was what she had promised, so, of course, she would not go back on her word.

Aemon stood by his mother's side, forming a human wall with his sister Baela. Rhaenyra rubbed their heads one by one, proudly raising her chin. With so many children, she could easily form a dragon knight corps. Jeyne saw this scene and frowned slightly. But if you are not as good as others, there is nothing to be jealous of.

Jeyne led her two daughters forward and got down to business: "Daenerys, is a Princess of the Seven Kingdoms and should be given the Targaryen name."

Rhaegar nodded to himself. Then he heard Jeyne continue, "When Daenerys inherits The Eyrie, she should take the name of House Arryn. In any case, the Vale must be ruled by House Arryn."

"No problem," Rhaegar was prepared for this and said sincerely, "We will hold the ceremony to give Daenerys her new name the day after tomorrow, before her uncle's wedding." It was a sure-fire deal to have his daughter inherit The Eyrie. When the next generation grew up, the authority of a Warden would be weakened, and it would be beneficial to control the Vale beforehand.

Jeyne smiled, stroked her eldest daughter's silky silver hair, and whispered, "Daenerys, go to your father and let everyone see you."

Daenerys's pale face showed surprise, and she hesitated, "But..."

"He will take care of you." Jeyne's expression was solemn, giving her eldest daughter enough confidence. Daenerys was torn, not knowing whether to listen to her mother.

Their conversation was not deliberately lowered, and everyone present could hear it. Rhaegar propped his chin in his hand, waiting for his daughter's decision. He loved all his children equally, but his position forced him to favor some over others. Yet, he could not deny that he wanted to know them better. Did his eldest daughter, who appeared to be a pale, fragile little girl, have the same courage as her father and brother?

"Mother," Daenerys said nervously, feeling the stares around her, and bit her lip. "I want to take Anna with me." Lyanna's spirit suddenly lifted, and she raised her hand. She wanted to go, and that iron chair looked very powerful.

Jeyne's eyes flashed, and she looked silently at Rhaenyra, who was staring at her, and then at Rhaegar on the Iron Throne. She had a thousand words to say, but she only said one thing: "Take good care of Anna."

Daenerys's pretty face broke into a smile, and she nodded firmly: "Yes." She lifted her skirt with one hand and took Lyanna by the hand with the other, moving her little feet like a flying bird. Jeyne watched the two girls as they ran up to the Iron Throne and looked defiantly at someone. Rhaenyra's face turned slightly dark, but she managed to hold back her temper.

"Father." Daenerys ran up with a flushed face and threw herself into her father's arms like a swallow returning to its nest.

"Come, my little Princess." Rhaegar smiled broadly, picked up his daughter, and placed her on his lap. "You have a family name now," he said happily. He knew that his bloodline would not disappoint. Daenerys looked weak, but she was actually gentle and strong-willed.

"I want one too! You left me behind," Lyanna puffed up her cheeks and held out her two little hands.

"Okay, little one," Rhaegar joked, holding each of his daughters in one arm.

Baelon stood aside, scratching his head. His father had never held him like that. Rhaegar didn't even look at him. Boys had to be strong.

"Father." Baelon's eyes were unusual as he tugged at his father's sleeve. Rhaegar looked down in surprise, receiving a serious look from his eldest son.

Glancing around, he saw Jeyne and Rhaenyra staring at each other from a distance, sparks practically flying from their eyes. Several of the royal advisers were standing in the way, leaning back silently. Lyman, old and weary, bowed his head like a chastened child.

Rhaegar pursed his lips, suddenly unsure whether to feel sorry for the advisers or for himself. The two women were locked in a battle, and in the end, it was he who would suffer.

"Alas," Baelon sighed for his father, like a little lord. Although still young, he understood a lot. Otherwise, he would not have given the dragon egg to Daenerys. It was just a coincidence that the dragon egg hatched in Anna's hands.

Rhaegar raised his eyebrows, noticing the sad look on his eldest son's face. The resemblance to his own young self was striking. 'Who was the first to suggest that Rhaenyra and I follow the traditions of the House?' he wondered, memories flooding back.

Rhaegar's eyes fell on Lyonel as he raised his hand to his mouth and coughed lightly. "Ahem!" The sound echoed through the hall, drawing attention. Lyonel turned his head, looking at the king with a questioning gaze.

Rhaegar had a flash of inspiration and nodded slightly towards Baelon and Daenerys in his arms.

"Hmm?" Lyonel was puzzled at first but then suddenly understood. "Your Grace, Lady Maris is speaking nonsense, but Prince Baelon is the heir and should be considered for marriage in advance."

Rhaegar's lips curled slightly.

No fool can become the Hand of the King, and Lyonel is no exception.

Jasper looked up in surprise. "Prince Baelon is only six years old. Who is he to be engaged to?"

Tormund smiled, understanding the cue. "According to Targaryen tradition, the heir should be chosen from within the royal family."

Lyman and Orwyle, slower to react, nodded in agreement. The topic of choosing an engagement partner for the heir struck a nerve with the nobles. The advisers began to consider it when the Master of Whisperers suggested following tradition.

However, some were determined to win. The Sea Snake straightened his back and, with his usual solemn expression, said, "Your Grace, Lady Baela is of both Targaryen and Velaryon blood and has grown up with Prince Baelon."

(Word count: 2,062)